


and the bed might not be long enough

by transishimaru



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, when i say makoto/everyone i mean it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transishimaru/pseuds/transishimaru
Summary: I don't really know how to summarize this other than: Makoto has a crush on everyone and Mondo is bad at words so he helps out.  Mondo/Taka romantic and Makoto/Taka QPR.





	and the bed might not be long enough

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't tag all of the relationships mentioned or referenced because do you even know how many tags that would be for something this short? Ridiculous.
> 
> The left-aligned text is Mondo's POV, the center-aligned text is Taka's POV, and the right-aligned text is Makoto's POV. Had to update this because I am bad at directions apparently!
> 
> Referenced Hajime/all of class 77. Title from the MIKA song "It's My House" because I literally could not think of what else to call it.

He looks dejected. Like he just lost his best friend. Except, you’re standing right there, and unless things have changed since last night, _you_ are his best friend. But he’s standing with his forehead pressing into the door of his locker looking…well, actually, not like he’s about to cry, but like he hasn’t really slept or eaten for weeks.

It’s kind of scary. You remember the vet telling you it’s something animals do when they want to die.

The idea that he might want to die is unthinkable.

You reach out and take him by the shoulder, shaking him softly, because it looks like he might even fall asleep in this position. And his eyes do open, but they catch sight of you in the peripherals and turn away sharply, with something like guilt in them.

Probably just worried, because you caught him almost sleeping during school hours, but your gut tells you otherwise, because you’ve seen him asleep and that’s not what he looks like.

It kills you to see him this sad. You really want to punch something. You might _actually_ punch something when he’s not looking because you don’t really care about the consequences of your actions but you do care about his skyrocketing levels of anxiety. So you give him one of your stupider grins, hoping that even if you are too dumb to say something that will make him feel better that he will, at least, fake it til he makes it through the day.

But all he does is stare at you like you’ve offended him or something, and pushes off the locker with one hand so he can turn his back to you and walk away.

And you’ve still got, like, no idea what in the hell’s gotten into him.

* * *

You are – seventeen, and you are still very young for this, but you think – you _think_ – you might be dying. But only because you have never felt this exact way before and you think death might actually be preferable to walking around all day looking like this.

The only thing you did last night was cry.

Sure, sure, you’re ahead on your schoolwork, you could even turn most of it in early (if doing so already hadn’t upset the teachers, but it has, and you’ve learned your lesson), so it’s not like you had something you _needed_ to get done last night while you were actually laughing with your best friend and breaking your absolute first and foremost rule of friendship, which is: don’t fall in love with them.

You’re bad at this. You’re _really really_ bad at this, because there are precious few boys you’ve made friends with who you didn’t think, “I could fall in love with them.” Even upperclassmen who just needed your help with one or two things and realized you weren’t as horrible as you accidentally made everyone think you were at literally every turn. Your popularity has surprised your classmates and your best friend and your long-suffering father and, most of all, you.

Of course most of it is minimal. Most of it is what Asahina calls a crush like when she stares at every girl in school and sighs softly with her hand on her chest and you have to wave your hand in front of her face to rouse her from distractions. A lot of it is just, “Wow, he’s attractive.” But from the moment you met your best friend there has been something different, and the first time he put his hand on you in a way that wasn’t to throw you against the wall (and how your mind throws that back at you all the time, you kind of want to be thrown against a wall now, but you’re not sure if it’s sexual or because you think the physical pain and violence would take your mind off your creeping despair) something inside you started to shout _oh no_ and it hasn’t stopped screaming since then.

Sometimes, you even feel that scream of frustration creeping its way up your throat. And if you’re not careful, one day, Mondo will look at you, and you will literally scream in his face.

Not that it didn’t occur to you before that he was attractive or that you might like him or that your draw to him was not, as you have been pretending for several months now, platonic – but it is in its own ways of course he is your friend of course he is your best friend and things will always be that way – but last night there was, something, you don’t know what, and it all crushed down on you and you felt like hiding. But you didn’t, you just sat there and let the feeling well up until it was time for you to go back to your room, where instead of working or showering or sleeping you cried. For eight hours straight. Because you are a very, very stupid person.

* * *

He looks sad, and despite your girlfriend’s reassurances he does not look his usual sad. Because sad actually isn’t his usual, but she hasn’t spent enough time with him to really know that, or maybe she doesn’t care.

(You like to think it’s the former. Like Taka, you care a lot about your fellow classmates.)

(You care a lot, especially, about your girlfriend, and about him, and about Byakuya.)

(You have very strange taste.)

She gives you this look because she knows what you’re thinking, and she rolls her eyes and kisses you on the cheek. You are not the kind of seventeen year-old who is desperate for sex, although sometimes you tease her saying maybe that’s what she wants, but you are desperate to spread all the love and affection in your heart.

There happens to be a lot of it.

There also happens to be a list in your head of crushes who are undeniably off the table. You had, at one point, fifteen, and had avoided interacting with the upperclassman to keep that number down. But then Celes had made it very clear to you that she wasn’t into boys, but she was into Kyouko – fourteen – Hifumi said he wasn’t really into anyone, his apologies – thirteen. Then, your sister met Toko at a bookstore and begged you to give her your classmate’s number, and out of respect for your sister you made that number twelve. Sakura had a boyfriend who was not open to the idea of polyamory, so you sadly made the number eleven. As for Taka...

Well, until recently, you had thought your number of crushes had to be pushed down to ten. (Well, nine; Hiro was cute, but much too old for you.) You thought that Taka – cute, passionate, nerdy Taka – was off the table because you and everyone else in the class thought “if I so much as touch him, Mondo will kill me.”

But he wouldn’t look like this if that conversation had gone well at all.

Maybe Mondo changed his mind.

You are not trying to go after someone on the rebound, but whether this leads to anything romantic or not Taka is still your friend and you’ve never seen him look this bad before, even when Byakuya bested him in a political science debate.

So you don’t really ask him what’s wrong, because you don’t think you need to. You thread your fingers through his, and you get yourself to walking to class.

* * *

You are a fucking moron, and you don’t need anyone to tell you that, least of all Leon. “He’s so smooth,” he’s saying, voice in total awe, and you know he’s talking about Makoto because from out of nowhere that little twerp slides up to _your_ best friend who _you_ should be holding hands with and is…the one…holding hands… _argh!_

Un-fucking-believable. “I thought he was datin’ someone,” you ground out, and Leon gives you another one of those are-you-seriously-asking-me-this-right-now faces.

“Uh, yeah, dude, they’re polyamorous? She’s also seeing Celes and they’re both dating Chihiro.”

Woah, what? Now that feels like a slap. You don’t have a romantic interest in any of the names you just heard but you feel like shit being so out of the loop about it. It stings that Chihiro wouldn’t at least tell you about it, although they’ve gotten some contract recently that’s kept them out of every class that isn’t core to the curriculum, so you haven’t had time to talk recently.

Not! That! It! Excuses! Makoto! Doing! This! Jesus! Wasn’t it just a known fact around here that Taka was already pretty much your boyfriend? Weren’t things like this supposed to be a discussion? Or maybe you hadn’t been a very good boyfriend, a very good date, you didn’t even know why he looked like that this morning when he looked perfectly happy in your room last night. Sure, you didn’t get much studying done, but you’d never seen him laugh so hard at anything and –

Aughhhhhhh…hhhhhrhrrrnnnghhhhhhhhh…

“Dude, you didn’t do it last night either, did you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, knowing full well you’re talking more to yourself than to Leon. “He _knows_ we’re dating.”

“Does he?” Leon asks, sounding both amused and smug, the little bastard. And you know he’s right, Taka doesn’t, because he’s not good with people and the only time Class 78 saw Fuyuhiko go soft on someone it was because he broke out into tears when the former called them friends. It probably helped that his own girlfriend was Taka’s cousin, and that she saw his outburst and sighed softly. If she hadn’t been taken in by the Kuzuryu’s, her life probably would have been more or less the same.

(Which might explain the suited thugs following your every move, goddamit.)

Every day you don’t just kiss him or say something (and kissing him would be easier than saying something) is another day that your relationship spends in limbo. “He knows,” you say, but it’s really weak this time because he doesn’t actually know and you are an asshole for not just telling him already.

“If he doesn’t know, then I get to kiss him first,” Leon says, and you scream at him as he runs away laughing, not caring how many people are staring at you both.

* * *

Makoto is sweet and funny and cute and nice and you had a crush on him, once, and maybe there’s something still resembling that crush (a squish, you think they say when it’s platonic) there because when he holds your hand through almost every class you don’t protest. You weakly gesture toward Kyouko at one point in time, and manage to get out the word, “Girlfriend?”

She snorts, but not meanly, and ruffles your hair, waving Celes over to join you, kissing her softly.

You’d thought those rumors had just been…well, rumors. You didn’t think they were true. But it’s not a problem that they are! The idea of polyamory intrigues you, even if you know you could never love anyone the way you love Mondo Oowada. Even if he probably doesn’t feel the same way.

Definitely doesn’t feel the same way. Why would he? You are hardly an attractive romantic prospect. You nag at him constantly and even if it’s because you believe, wholly and truly, that he can do better, and you only want to help him be the best version of himself that he can be – well, who wants to deal with that all the time? You’re amazed he even wants to be friends.

You sigh, dejected, tears making themselves evident on your eyes and your cheeks and the table, and Makoto squeezes your hand and lets it go to brush his hand over your cheek, wiping away your tears. When he smiles it’s so sweet and your heart pulses weirdly. You almost feel sort of happy, or at least not so alone.

He does this just in time, hand still caressing your cheek, for Mondo to walk in and stare at you both, upset and eyes wide, like you’ve done something wrong. And some part of you feels like you’ve done something wrong, but you can’t think of what. Or you can, but you won’t let yourself entertain that brief hope that maybe your feelings aren’t as unrequited as you thought they were. Mondo is hardly shy around you and if he felt something for you other than friendship, he would have told you. He knows how dense you are with other people. If he wanted to flirt, he’d make it obvious.

Chihiro pushes past him without so much as a glance in his direction. With Makoto sitting down they don’t have to duck to kiss his lips or your cheek, and even with so little an explanation you feel yourself less surprised about it all than you should be, even when Chihiro makes their way around the table to greet Kyouko and Celes in the exact same fashion.

When you turn to look at Mondo you notice his expression has soured now in Chihiro’s direction. You should be used to the feeling of disappointment seeping into your skin, shouldn’t have let yourself even barely get your hopes up. Mondo is not upset to see you, specifically, with Makoto; it seems Makoto has just offended him in general. Or perhaps he is angry for no reason; maybe his earlier smile was faked.

You can’t imagine what for.

* * *

You do not want to be on Mondo Oowada’s bad side. But you are fairly certain now that the talk with Kiyotaka didn’t happen because he chickened out, again (which Leon later confirms to you, hand lower on your back than it ever needs to be, so even if things don’t work out with Taka it seems pretty clear your numbers will be rising anyway), and that he is not interested in the concept of polyamory.

You think you can live with that. What matters most to you is Taka feeling better, and you think he’ll feel better once he and Mondo have the actual discussion.

All the same, he holds onto your hand. He only looks dismayed by Mondo’s entrance and exit, perhaps because both were totally wordless. He makes no attempts to follow him, and it would be all too easy for you to reap the rewards of your classmate’s failure. But that’s not the kind of person that you are. Nevertheless, Taka needs you more right now than Mondo does, and if he finds comfort in squeezing your fingers so hard you can’t feel anything, then you’re going to let him do just that.

You walk back to the dorms with him, your hands swinging between your bodies. He stops you just short of his door and frowns at the ground instead of at your face, brows furrowed and lips pursed. Is it weird to say you find him cute like this? “Makoto,” he begins, and you know from experience that you are about to hear rejection. And again: you are okay with that. “I do like you, but – not…quite in the same way.”

“That’s okay,” you tell him, and notice that your hands are still linked. His face is still down, still thinking, trying out words in his mind.

“I think they call it… ‘Queer-platonic?’”

You smile, and even if you hadn’t been feeling bad exactly you feel much better. “I can work with that,” you tell him. You have to grab his shoulder and pull him down to your level to kiss his cheek, and you hear a bang so hard that you just know before you even look that Mondo’s door is dented. Taka looks blue in the face and worried, watching his would-be stomp off in a fury. You roll your eyes and think, uncharitably, that Mondo made his own bed and now he has to lay in it.

But again. You’re not that kind of person. “I’m gonna go talk to him,” you tell Taka, and you leave before he can tell you not to.

Someone in this school has to be the emotional brain.

* * *

You are beyond pissed off. You are infuriated. You used to think Makoto was kind of cute – not your type, really, but had a sort of charming quality that was undeniable. You could understand why people were so drawn to him. But this – this you think, he’s just doing to piss you off. There’s no way he didn’t catch your glare in the dining hall when he was – caressing – Kiyotaka – and you – could not stand that, could not stand watching him doing that and Chi muttering at you in that voice of theirs only you can hear that you _waited too long_ and _missed your chance_. There’s not supposed to be things like limited time when it comes to relationships.

And yet, here you are, in the garden, wishing this stupid school had an easily accessible roof you could smoke on and also that you hadn’t given up fucking smoking for Taka (and Chi and Makoto and Daiya who told you that you were too young to start to begin with, but mostly for Taka) because you could really use something to do with your hands that isn’t messing up your hair.

God _dammit_.

“Hey, Mondo.” You have half a mind to pummel that twerp for following you in here, looking smug as hell. It’s possible that he’s not actually smug but that you and your stupid brain are interpreting his smile and friendly wave as smugness because he got the boy, didn’t he, not you. You’re too angry to give any kind of response to him that isn’t a growl reminiscent of every rottweiler you’d been told was “too aggressive” to be housed in the apartment you share with your brother.

Makoto just laughs at you. Clearly, you are losing your edge as a gang leader. “What the fuck do you want?” you try out.

Unsurprisingly, Makoto doesn’t take your lame attempt at intimidation very seriously and gets closer. “I just wanted to talk to you about Taka.”

Great. Fucking perfect. Exactly what you don’t want to be talking about. And once again you can’t even manage words for a response, just annoyed noises.

“You know, he’s not interested in me romantically,” Makoto says. Like this is a normal conversation to be having, and like you buy it for a fucking second. Or maybe you kinda buy it, because Taka hasn’t shown that much interest in him, not that way, but then he rarely shows that kind of interest in anyone. You thought he was showing it in you but now you don’t know what to think because apparently there is such a thing as missing your chance. “I’m thinking about asking him for a queer-platonic relationship, but I wanted to ask you first if that was okay.”

“Why the hell would my opinion matter now?” you ask, and you’re well aware of how childish and whiny you sound. What you should have said was that he didn’t need your permission, because Taka isn’t your property or even your boyfriend, you’re just the idiot who’s too much of a coward to be honest about his feelings.

“Because I wouldn’t want to make you jealous,” he says. “You know Taka isn’t the best at picking up on things like that.”

You feel like there’s something starting to click along in your brain, making the kind of noises those computerized jigsaw puzzles make when the pieces fit together. And you can’t say for certain that you really understand what it is you’re understanding. You just say, “I gotta talk to Taka,” before pushing past Makoto to leave the garden.

At least he shouts after you, “He’s in his room.”

* * *

You are sent an invitation by Kyouko to join a chat on some application that Chihiro added to your phone several months ago that has remained mostly untouched. The chat, when you join it, is titled “Eggy Scramble.” Kyouko messages you that it is a server for Makoto’s partners, romantic and platonic, and the partners of his partners. You notice that half the chat is in here. Worryingly, Hiro is a part of it.

The worry stops when he tells you that he has been assigned Class Dad, and that most of what he does is remind people to eat their vegetables, stay hydrated, and make increasingly terrible puns.

There’s something nice about it, about the whole thing. You have never been ‘in’ on any jokes before, but Celes suggests you read back through the logs to get better acquainted with the running jokes. Hiro suggests you avoid the channel labeled ‘NSFW.’ You’re not sure what the acronym means, but you’ll take his advice on it. For now.

You’re assigned the role ‘quiche’ and your name goes yellow. You don’t ask what that means. You’re not sure you’re ready to know.

You never really thought that you would be a part of a group like this, and you keep repeating to yourself _this is nice_ even as your chest still aches and your head fills with thoughts of Mondo. It would be easier, probably, if you could like Makoto differently, or anybody else for that matter. It would be easier to go back to your crush on the male upperclassmen. It wouldn’t hurt to like a stranger as much as it hurts to love your best friend.

Your bell rings and you figure it’s probably Makoto. You feel dread fill your body from your head to your toes. You’re not ready to learn what it is that has Mondo so upset, what you could have possibly done wrong because certainly the problem is you. If it was anything else he would have told you, put his arm around your shoulder and leaned in too close and

 _It’s him!_ He’s the one at your door. He’s looking at you still kind of strangled and he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, because you can’t think of what to say and you never appreciated empty apologies. You can’t give one until you know what it is you’ve done and

Oh, his lips kind of hurt when they kiss you. It’s kind of bad. You don’t mind that it’s bad because you have been waiting several weeks for this and if you can get one bad kiss out of the way then you can practice several better ones later. His skin under your fingers is burning up and he keeps kissing you, insistently, like he thinks you will run away if he stops. You can’t imagine what would have given him that idea, isn’t it obvious he’s all you think about most days?

You do have to pull away at some point in time because you’re dizzy and you can’t breathe. It’s not a feeling you ever thought you’d find addicting but if it wasn’t for human physiology you’d let yourself get attached to it.

Mondo’s hands don’t leave your waist. He has you pinned to your own wall and his lips are all over your face.

Over his shoulder, you see Makoto on his toes, giving you a thumbs up.

* * *

You have a girlfriend who has a girlfriend and a significant other who dates her too. You have a queer-platonic partner and his boyfriend. Collectively, you take up one table in the dining hall.

Two people are very annoyed at your lack of “foresight” (as Byakuya calls it), and pull up extra chairs to sit on either end of the table. Leon has his hand on your thigh and Byakuya’s scowl is fake. When she comes in, looking timid, you shout for Mukuro to grab herself a seat, and Taka scolds you for yelling. Loudly.

You don’t particularly care, though. You’re feeling generous enough not to mention he should give himself detention for PDA, because you’re happy to watch it. But the elbow room is getting scarce when Mukuro squeezes herself between you and Leon, a faint dust on her cheeks, and Sayaka leans between Kyouko and Celes to steal food off their plates.

Hajime feels your pain, giving you a lopsided smile between the harem that is his class on the other end of the dining hall. And you know he feels the same way that you do: that crowded beds are better than empty ones.


End file.
